To the immense, though, as it shall turn out eventually, premature relief of our Champions of Brutish Macho-Musicianship, there came Q. D. Barrington walking up to their cell's door, with jangling key ring. He proceeded to unlock the door of their cell.

"Good afternoon gents! It seems today is your lucky day! The judge happens to be a great fan of yours - she even showed me one of your albums, that she's...

One fine day, the infamously bloodcurdling rock act Kiff was strolling down Lambeth Road, doing the Lambeth Walk, or, as the case might be, to the degree their Scary Outfits allowed them to.

Passers-by reacted appropriately: elderly ladies shrieked and hid themselves, Japanese tourists took pictures, and someone from Inverness had jumped into the Thames. As might be expected, all this had attracted the attention...

The Colossally Macabre Rock Formation Kiff was touring one day, and in a smallish mid-western town they were booked into a particularly crappy hotel.

The bass player, quite to the disgruntlement of the rest, was in a very playful mood and he stomped, giggling maniacally, from room to room on his plateau boots, opening all the taps he could find just to annoy his colleagues.
It turned out that the plumbing was...

Kiff, the renowned Macabre Squad, were walking down the street in Houston one day. In the houses lining both sides of the southern suburban street, sitting in their rocking chairs on the front porch and traditional blunderbuss on their knees, Houstonian old-timers, on account of their being uninterested in pop music...